


Random Babbles for the Soul

by SansyFresh



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Multiple Universes, Romance, Swapfell, Underfell, lots of ships, underswap - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-03-05 22:11:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13397307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: A place to put the things I write for the ships I love.





	1. Forbidden (UF Muffyrus)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone lol I'm sure most here know me already because of the other ships I write, but this is the place for the other pairings I ship. There'll be random oneshots, none of them will really be connected, but if they are I'll let you know pretty clearly.
> 
> Also there isn't any other content for these ships in my works, so if that's all you're here for, I wouldn't bother looking XD
> 
> Chapter Tags: Papyrus/Muffet, Underfell, Soft Angst, Breakup Angst

Fell sat on the edge of the mattress, clawed fingertips holding lightly to the silken sheets, his bones lax in their sockets. He hadn’t been this relaxed in months, the utter safety and assurance just in the magic in the room putting his soul at ease. It was a feeling he could grow addicted to, if he allowed himself to. 

 

There was a small puff of exhaled air behind him, a dainty lavender hand settling against his spine, not moving, simply resting there. “Come back to bed darling.”

 

Muffet’s voice, still so smooth and soft even as she was half asleep, made Fell relax further, his entire being wishing to do nothing more than join her in the warmth, allow her to wrap her arms around him, hold her close to his chest, and sleep until the Barrier broke. But he couldn’t.

 

“We can’t see each other any longer.”

 

Silence. The beat of a few minutes passed in his mind as he listened, waited for anger, for disbelief. For the fiery retribution of him leading her on for so long. Instead, there was silence.

 

Slow sounds of movement behind him made his frame tense up once more, preparing for the prick of a weapon against his bones only to have two pairs of arms wrap softly around him, the remaining two holding his hands. Her chin rested on his shoulder, her silky hair brushing the back of his spine and scapula. She hummed, the vibrations running through his bones. He closed his sockets, savoring the proximity for as long as he was able.

 

“Tell me why we must no longer see each other, love.” The question was void of accusation or anger. Fell couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him as Muffet’s hands gently squeezed his own.

 

“I’m Captain now. If anyone were to find out that we are...that we were…” Fell paused. Muffet chuckled, moving her head to his other shoulder as she gently pulled him close.

 

“What are we, dear?” Her voice was teasing, light. Fell gritted his fangs.

 

“If any discovered our relationship, you would be under attack and I would receive a harsh reprimand for consorting with a known...criminal.” 

 

Muffet laughed, the sound bringing more satisfaction to Fell’s soul than it had any right to. “No one dares attack me, dear. You know that. And no one will find out. I know you are capable of being discreet. Do you not trust me?”

 

Fell huffed. “I do trust you.”

 

“But?”

 

He was silent. The room fell back into the still quiet, only the soft breathing of the two of them breaking it. Finally she moved, pulling away and moving to sit beside him. A single hand settled in his lap, grasping his own. He gently pulled it to his mouth, leaving a chaste kiss before holding it to his chest.

 

“I suppose this is goodbye then.” Muffet sounded like she always did. But Fell could hear the slight tremor in her voice.

 

“I suppose it is.”

 

Neither moved to stand. Neither willing to break the silence. Neither willing to be the first to let go.

 

But they had to. So they did.


	2. What a Beautiful Day (UT Sansgore)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably mention that this is my first time writing any of these ships? So if they're rough, I apologize lol
> 
> Enjoy?
> 
> Chapter Tags: Sansgore, On the Surface, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Mild Panic Attack, Mild Hurt/Comfort

It was a beautiful day outside. Sans couldn’t help but stretch out in the warm sunlight, allowing the kinks in his spine to loosen as he reclined further into the lawn chair he was all but sprawled over. There were sounds of laughter and activity all around him, Undyne and the kid playing badminton over across the way, Toriel and Papyrus having an in depth conversation about how to make a blackberry cobbler, Alphys sitting quietly under her umbrella and playing on her phone while simultaneously cheering on her girlfriend. 

 

All in all, the cookout had been a success. Toriel had provided most of the sweets, Papyrus the sides, and Sans had done most of the actual “cooking out” with his hot dogs and hot cats. Asgore had been supposed to show up to cook hamburgers at some point, but had called about fifteen minutes in to say that he’d been delayed and would likely not be there until after they’d eaten. Determined to not let the cookout be delayed, they decided to go ahead with what they had.

 

Everyone had eaten until they were full, then went off to do their own thing. Sans had headed straight for the lawn chairs they’d set up, deciding that his contribution to the day granted him at least a decent sized nap. After sprawling out over the nearest one, he’d drifted into a near doze, not really asleep, not really awake. This was how he “slept” most of them time, at least until night. Night was really the only time he could truly fall into a deeper sleep, the darkness aiding to keep him under. At least, until the nightmares came.

 

Sans was aware everyone most likely thought he was lazing the day away like he always did, and to be completely honest he was fine with them believing that. The less they knew about his sleeping patterns, the better. 

 

He’d just gotten to the ultimate position of optimum comfort when a shadow slowly overtook the sunlight he was basking in. He cracked a socket open, expecting to see a cloud or something meandering across the sky, but instead found a fair mountain of a monster standing right beside him, staring off at everyone else. Asgore’s golden hair and beard glistened in the sunlight that Sans was now missing, not that he was giving it a whole lot of thought. His grin softened.

 

“Sup, your Majesty.”

 

The past King jumped, glancing down at him with a sheepish grin. “Ah, I’m sorry my friend. Did I wake you?” Asgore’s hands rubbed together nervously in the way he did when Toriel was near and would likely be over to administer a scolding should Sans call her. Sans snorted.

 

“Nope. Wanna pop a squat? I think everyone’s pretty much doing their own thing.” Sans pushed into his seat, stretching out his back until it popped. He ignored the way Asgore flinched at the sound as he melted bonelessly into the chair. “Unless you wanted to join fish face and the kid. Three man badminton is pretty fun, I’ve heard.”

 

The other chuckled, Sans ignoring how the low rumble made his magic twitch pleasantly. “I’m sure they are having fun on their own. I think I will, as you put it, “pop a squat” and take advantage of this wonderful weather.”

 

Sans snickered helplessly as Asgore grinned, slowly settling onto one of the larger lawn chairs, the plastic creaking as his admirable weight settled. Sans closed his sockets once more, listening as Asgore made himself comfortable, the warmth of the other so close making the remaining tension in his bones leech away. There was just something about the general aura the old King gave off that Sans couldn’t help but bask in. 

 

They both sat in relative silence, the others still talking and cheering and going on about various forms of cobbler. Sans found himself falling deeper and deeper into his doze, almost falling into actual sleep before he jerked himself awake. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep, not while out in the open like this. Not with the humans that populated the park. He cracked his sockets open once more, shifting so that he could see everyone from where he laid. 

 

They were safe. He was safe. There was nothing to worry about. No demons waiting to slice him open. No humans waiting to take everything he loved and crush it to dust in front of him-

 

A soft paw settled on his forearm, the warmth startling him out of his line of thought. He looked up, realizing his sockets were wide open, his magic tinting the air around him with fear and anger. It hadn’t spread enough for the others to feel it; if he’d gone on much longer they would have all felt it. Asgore was staring down at him with a saddened expression, his gaze soft.

 

“You’re safe, my friend.”

 

Sans couldn’t help the shudder that went through him at the words, his sockets half lidding as he nodded, soaking in the peaceful intent Asgore was letting seep into the air around them. Asgore looked to the others, all of whom were still playing, talking, all happy and unaware.

 

“They are safe.”

 

Sans was all but purring as a hand slowly pet his skull, resting as a pleasant weight. Asgore smiled.

 

“Rest, my friend. I will make sure nothing happens.”

 

Sans nodded sleepily, curling on his side as his sockets shut. Asgore smiled softly, continuing his rhythmic petting as the skeleton beside him finally fell asleep. He watched as Undyne served to the child, as Toriel spoke and Papyrus wrote down everything she said with a diligent air, and as Alphys continued typing away at her phone, likely posting about the festivities. 

 

Asgore closed his eyes in the sunlight. It really was a beautiful day.


	3. Artisan (SF Sansby)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't posted anything here in a little bit lol This was a tiny present for Deck_of_Dragons, who was saying there is little to no Swapfell Sansby out there. This is maybe more fluffy than a swellverse should be, but hey XD
> 
> Tags: Swapfell Sansby, Flirting, Fluff, Domestic Fluff

Boots clicked on the pristine flooring, pacing slowly through the aisles and up to the counter of the small shop. Grillby ignored the sound, focus entirely set on perfecting his display of freshly made chocolates into an appealing pattern for his customers to enjoy. He kept his flames carefully controlled so as not to melt any of them, his jagged grin lifting as the final piece fell into place.

  
  
The monster had finally made their way to the main counter, just off the side of his register. There was no tapping or huffing or other indications of impatience, so Grillby dusted himself off and placed the chocolates under his protective glass casing before turning to the interloper customer. Preparing his best, most don’t-fuck-with-my-shop grin, he turned to the monster, only for his flames to spark and jump a bit as his smile turned genuine.

  
  
“Sansy! How delightful for you to drop by, I was starting to think you’d given up on little old me.” He all but skipped over to where Sans stood, arms crossed but a nearly content grin on his face. Feigning a pout, he leaned over the counter, elbows propped up with his shin rested in his hands. “You never call, you never write, what’s a guy supposed to think?”

  
  
Sans scoffed, taking a step forward so that they were eye to eye, a playful sparkle in his sockets. “I’ve been busy. Snowdin won’t keep itself.”

  
  
Grillby rolled his eyes as best a flame could, turning and waving for Sans to follow behind him as he made his way into the back. Leaning down, he whispered to a passing fireling to flip the door’s open sign to closed and to lock the door before he continued on down the dark hall, past room after room to the last door on the left. He smiled as he heard Sans’ footsteps behind him, following him up the steps and into his own private abode.

  
  
Sans kicked off his boots as Grillby headed for the kitchen, hands loosening his tie as he went over the list in his head of what food he could prepare. “Go ahead and set up on the couch, pick whatever! I’m not in the mood for anything specific.”

  
  
Sans had clearly taken his advice as he heard the television click on a moment later, his grin sharpening as he thought of his small boyfriend curled up on the couch, wrapped in one of the blankets. Instead of going and cuddling with him like he wanted to, Grillby took a few fresh ingredients out of the fridge and set to work making them both a meal.

  
  
Soon the warm smell of homemade food filled the small living area, Sans audibly sighing in contentment as whatever was on the TV droned on in the background. Grillby’s smile softened as he plated them both a dish, steaming chicken over a bed of rice with a simple cheese based sauce drizzled over it. A messier dish than he was used to, but the added use of the sauce alone would be enough to put a spark in his mate’s eyes.

  
  
Carrying both plates to the couch, he watched patiently as Sans scooted over, sockets growing wide as he was handed his plate. Grillby laughed, delighted, as he sat next to him, pulling the blanket over his own lap. He watched as Sans dug in, clearly enjoying his meal as his eyelights had become brighter than they had been. Satisfied, he began eating.


	4. Sansgore Week Day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I attempted a Sansgore Week of Prompts over on tumblr and only got about four days done lol But I thought I'd post them here! It's basically all fluff.
> 
> Day 1: Fluff

There were few things in life that Asgore let himself enjoy, these days. The heavy burden of his sins often weighed heavy on his back, but...now that they were on the surface, things had started looking up. He’d bought a modest home, with a large backyard brimming with potential, and Frisk often came over every other weekend or so to stay the night and help him garden. Toriel still didn’t speak with him, but as time moved on, so had he, he found. It still hurt to think about times past and things long gone, but life moved on, so it were.

 

Undyne was still head of the Guard and often came over to give him reports even though he’d given up his title. She knew he still cared about his people.

 

And...someone special had entered his life. Brightened his days, warmed his nights, and kept him company even when the worst bouts of depression heavied his soul. 

 

The light snore next to him made him chuckle as he turned over, carefully and slowly. Sans was curled up beside him, taking advantage of his now available chest to steal warmth from. Small hands clutched at his fur, not pulling but remaining a steady weight. The magic burns under his sockets had all but disappeared, the sight making Asgore rumble in satisfaction. His tiny lover often did not take as good care of himself as he should, the issue of it causing many an argument. 

 

He hated when they argued, the guilt always hidden away in his soul bubbling to the forefront if he let it.

 

Sans curled tightly around his chest, mumbling lightly in his sleep. Asgore watched him, a soft smile on his face, and leaned down, leaving a lick peck on the top of his skull. Sans mumbled something else, something that sounded suspiciously like fluffybuns. He wasn’t sure whether to be flattered that Sans was dreaming of him, or lightly annoyed at the use of the ancient nickname. Deciding he’d much rather be in a good mood this morning, he gathered Sans into his arms, pulling him close. 

 

He loved the skeleton in his arms. Loved his pearly white bones, the dots of white light that served as his eyes, the pale blue of his magic. Loved his humorous nature, his love of family, and his sense of dedication. Loved the pale blue flush that graced his skull any time Asgore gave him a compliment. 

 

Smiling to himself, Asgore closed his eyes, allowing himself to slip back into an easy slumber. Things weren’t perfect, and likely never would be. But as long as Sans the skeleton remained in his arms...they didn’t have to be.


	5. Sansgore Week Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely forgot I was posting these, sorry about that ^^'
> 
> Day 2: Hurt/Comfort
> 
> Tags: Jerk Toriel, Hurt/Comfort

His feet felt heavy as he moved through the empty, quiet house, the light pattering of the pads on his soles making the only noise aside from his breathing. Moving past the living room, through the kitchen, and into the bedroom, he shuffled out of his outer shirt and pants, leaving him in a light undershirt and his boxers. Settling into bed, he pulled the out sheet over his body, turning on his side as he pushed his face deep into his large pillow.

 

The tears came unbidden, matting his fur and turning it crimson as they flowed down his cheeks, to his chin. Her words shouldn’t have the power over him they did, but…it hurt more than anyone would expect to have  _her_ say those kinds of things to him. After everything, that she hated him so much as to tear at his weakest points…

 

He stifled a sob as the door opened on silent hinges, the soft shuffle of slippers against carpet nearing his side of the bed. A small hand laid on his shoulder before a negligible weight settled down beside him. The hand gently pet him through his sobs, as quiet as they were, until he was finally able to breathe again.

 

“what happened?” Sans’ voice was quiet, calming. Asgore breathed deep, taking in the gentle scent of bones and the soap Sans liked to use when he showered.

 

“I had a meeting today. Toriel was there.”

 

The hand on his back stopped just a moment before it started petting him again, the feeling much needed.

 

“i’ll go have a talk with her.” Sans finally said, after a moment of silence. Asgore nearly sat up at that, his eyes wide.

 

“No, no, I don’t want you to do that. I know you are friends, I do not want to come between you.”

 

Sans smiled at him sadly before planting a kiss on the top of his head. “we’re friends, yeah. so she’ll quit it with the passive aggressive stuff, since we’re friends and you’re my bonefriend.” Another kiss, and then Sans was climbing up and over him, settling in, breathing deep as he curled into his back.

 

Asgore blinked away fresh tears, closing his eyes and relaxing into the bed.


	6. Sansgore Week Day 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: AU (Underfell)
> 
> Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Underfell, Alluded Violence, LV Issues

The hall was filled with golden light, shining down on ebony locks and golden horns. Asgore stood, arms over his chest, as the faint patter of tennis shoes hitting the marble floor slowly came closer. Sans soon emerged from the shadows, wicked grin stretched over his skull, crimson eyelight flashing in the light. Asgore let his arms fall, his eyes narrowing.

 

“You are late.”

 

Sans stopped just short of him, hands in his pockets as he grinned up unrepentantly. “yer can forgive me, can’t ya, yer highness?” Chuckling to himself, Sans moved and turned to continue to the throne room, Asgore pleading to the heavens with his eyes before turning and following. Sans moved past the golden gardens, careful where he placed his feet even as he moved carelessly into the main part of the castle.

 

Asgore followed him until they reached one of the sitting rooms, the furniture plush, but simple. He waited for Sans to become seated before moving across the room, settling into a much larger chair. Taking a deep breath, he folded his hands on his lap. “I’m sure you heard there was an incident.”

 

Sans rolled his eyes, slouching back into his seat as he stared at him lazily. “an’ i’m sure yer want me ta do my thing an’ take care a’ it fer ya.”

 

Asgore huffed, both amused and sorrowful. The sound got Sans’ attention better than the summons had. “No, my good friend, I already took care of it myself.”

 

Sans stared at him, brows furrowed, before his sockets widened. “another human fell.”

 

Smiling sadly, Asgore nodded, no longer looking at the skeleton that had become more than his Judge. There was the faint sound of shuffling, before a small hand was place on his own. Looking up, he found Sans looking back at him, pain reflected in his eyes. Still smiling, he sat up, gesturing back to the seat.

 

“Do an old man the pleasure of hearing of your life, my dear friend. Let us take our minds off of things for a bit.” Asgore didn’t plead, didn’t beg, but Sans immediately sat and began regaling him of the latest bar fights at the quaint pub named Grillby’s, and of his brother’s conquest to become head of his Guard.

 

It helped him forget, for a little while. Helped the LV swirling in his mind to calm. Sans had that effect on him. Without realizing it, he had relaxed, listening to his dear friend as he spoke on his life, and did not wish to be anywhere else.


	7. Sansgore Week Day 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Supportive Undyne
> 
> Tags: Supportive Undyne, Cute stuff, Bar Fights

Asgore watched as Undyne set her cup on the table, licking the remaining liquid from her lips as she looked guiltily at the floor. Setting his large hands on the table top, he settled back into his seat, eyes soft, but expression firm.

 

“And then what happened?” He was aware that using his “fatherly voice” was cheating just a bit, but he needed to know just how bad the damage really was. Undyne winced, before throwing her hands in the air.

 

“I told him he better not even think about hurting you, cause you’re, ya know, and he just drank his ketchup and laughed!”

 

Asgore tried valiantly to keep his smile to a minimum. “And then.”

 

Undyne looked away sheepishly. “And then…I might…have tried to suplex him?”

 

Asgore couldn’t help the snort that left him. “You tried to suplex my datefriend in Grillby’s?”

 

Undyne stood to her feet, hands clenched at her sides as she started to rant. “It’s like he wasn’t even there in the first place! He was just suddenly across the room, smiling like nothing had happened!”

 

Already aware of what had become of his long time friend’s bar, Asgore nodded sympathetically. “I’m sure you did your best.”

 

Rolling her eyes, she sat back at the table, taking her cup of tea and sipping a bit from it before speaking. “Anyways, I just want you to know that I approve.”

 

Asgore raised a brow. “You do?”

 

“Yes. He’s a speedy little fucker, I’ll give him that. And…I think? He actually cares about you? His weird eye light thingies turned into hearts when I asked him about you.”

 

Asgore smiled, softly. He’d have to use that tidbit around Sans later. Folding his hands on the table, he gave Undyne his most innocent grin. “Well, what did he say?”


	8. Firecracker (UT/UF Grillcest)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Grillbycest, Implied Past Minor Character Death, Grillby was a War Veteran

Something Fellby had realized over the few years he’d shared air with his…stuck up alternate, was that Grillby was a flame of few words. He’d speak when he thought he had something to say or contribute to the conversation, but for the most part he was silent, using the help of his regulars to get his point across to customers.

 

Fellby had always been proud of his voice. Crackling like a bonfire, loud and brash and everything that Grillby’s wasn’t. It was like the difference between a roaring wildfire and a flickering candle. He made his wishes clear and if the offending party didn’t comply they were thrown out on their ass.

 

His jacket rustled around him as he stepped into the apartment he shared with his quiet companion, though the usual, homey silence was stifling. Sniffing in derision at the scent of sweets in the air, he padded to the kitchen, already prepared for the incoming mess. He was all but assaulted by the scent of burnt chocolate as he entered the large kitchen, finding a still, silent Grillby sitting at the table. A large, lopsided cake sat in front of him, the icing melted in some places, caramelized in others, just plain out burnt in the rest. There were a few pieces cut out of it already, though the vast majority of it remained.

 

Rubbing at his face for a moment, Fellby took in the utter disaster area the kitchen had become in the four or so hours Grillby had been home before shucking off his coat. Tossing it on the back of a chair, he began cleaning up the mess. Dishes were tossed in sudsy water, the pots and pans with crusted icing and batter stacked beside the sink. A scratch pad was retrieved from under the sink and soaked in the water just long enough to soak up the soap before Fellby began working vigorously on the burnt and spilled batter that littered the stove, walls, and counter.

 

Once every surface all but shined from the force of his scrubbing, he nodded, satisfied. The dishes were done with a similar enthusiasm, until the kitchen was finally as immaculate as they prefered it. Now for the hard part.

 

Turning back to Grillby, he noticed that yet another piece of the atrocity of a cake was gone. He knew from experience that attempting to throw it away would do more harm than good. So, rather than even addressing the fact that the monstrosity existed, he put both hands under Grillby’s arms and lifted. The other moved almost mechanically, allowing himself to be lead away from the table and through the living room, past the first few doors in the hall until they reached the room they shared. Fellby kicked the door open before guiding Grillby through.

 

It was a simple matter to peel him out of his work shirt, Fellby only removing Grillby’s belt and glasses before he nudged him into the bed. Grillby curled almost automatically onto his side, allowing Fellby to pull him to his chest after he’d climbed up himself.

 

“Go to sleep, asshole. I’ve got you.” Fellby grumbled, pulling him close. Grillby nodded faintly, eyes closing as he let himself relax. Nuzzling the top if his head once he was sure he was asleep, Fellby relaxed himself.

 

The anniversary of the day they lost their love was always a difficult one.


	9. Webbed Bones (Fell Muffyrus)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Animosity, Pre-relationship

The lights overhead were overly bright, making the metal shelves and the produce set on them shadowed in strange ways. Fell tried to ignore the harsh light and annoying, tinny music that played over the loudspeakers throughout the store, the wheels of the cart he’d chosen squeaking obnoxiously as he strode through the aisles. Checking the list propped in the child seat of the cart, he paused, looking over the dismal choices of cereals before sighing in defeat and choosing one at random. Tossing it into the basket without another look, he turned to move further down the aisle only for a lavender hand to catch the edge of his cart, manicured fingers tightening ever so slightly.

 

Fell scowled, glaring at an unrepentant Muffet who had still not taken the hint and let go of the metal bar, her eyes glinting with defiance.

 

“Do you mind?” He tried to take a step forward, pushing a little only for her to push back.

 

“I do indeed; you’re in my way, dearie.” Her voice was silky smooth, the edge of it smoothed by years of practice at sounding a lot less threatening than she was. Fell’s sockets narrowed even as he clenched the handle of the cart, the plastic creaking in his grip.

 

“I thought you didn’t let anyone get in your way, Muffet.”

 

Now her eyes narrowed, her hand finally leaving the cart to flip him off, two of her other hands busy with the basket she held at her hip. “Bitch.”

 

“Whore.” he countered, pulling his cart back and moving around her, relishing in the way she huffed indignantly as he left the aisle.


	10. Burnt (UF Grillby/UT Sans)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little Fell Grillby/Tale Sans angst lol
> 
> Tags: KetchupInferno, Angst
> 
> (Daunte is Fell Grillby, and he doesn't talk well)

The inside of the bar was silent, or at least, it seemed silent over the chatter of the monsters that sat in their little clusters around the room, his world condensed to the monster sitting at his bar and the crooked, false grin on his face. Daunte had paused mid process of cleaning a glass, his grip tightening to the point of faint cracks appearing in the surface. His purple flame crackling, he set the glass down before the damn thing broke, his hands resting on the top of the bar as he leaned forward, head tilted to the side.

 

“Run that by me….again.”

 

Red picked at the food between his teeth with a blunted finger tip, his eye lights remaining focused on Daunte. “I said, yer can’t be seein’ Sans no more.” His tone was light, the meaning between the lines filled with a finality. Daunte stared at him a moment longer, then, his hands gripping the edge of the bar, his voice became hard as the ice he couldn’t touch.

 

“And...why is….that.”

 

The short skeleton sighed, leaning back on his stool as if he was having to explain to a child why they shouldn’t touch a flame. “He’s too good fer ya. Too good fer any a us assholes, but definitely too good fer you.” Red tilted his head, smile turning a tad pitying. “I know how yer feel, Grillbz, but yer jus’ gonna hurt ‘im.”

 

Daunte knew Red continued on after that, leaving a small amount of gold for his tab and hopping down from the stool to leave, but he wasn’t consciously aware of any of it. There were burnt scars in the lacquered wood top from where his clawed fingers had dug in, the scent of smoke not his own pulling him from burning his own damn bar down.

 

He tried not to think about Red’s words, tried not to believe they could be true. He worked through the pain of the thought that they could be, and went home that night, collar pulled up to help hold out the chilled wind, with a coal of growing despair in his soul. 

 

Maybe he really would be nothing good for the little skeleton that had won over his heart and soul. Maybe he really would just hurt him. 

 

He drowned out the thoughts with a hearty swig of bourbon, sitting alone in his apartment, only his darkening thoughts to keep him company.


	11. Shaken Down (Swell Muffyrus)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanted to knock something off my list lol
> 
> Tags: Mild Racism against Monsters, Alluded Violence, Swell Muffyrus

Knocking back a swig of scotch, Slim wiped a dribble of the liquid from his mouth, leaning forward to rest his chin on the crook of his arm. The noise of the restaurant behind him had settled into a dull din, his head feeling fuzzy, his concentration spaced. Maybe not the safest way to spend a night, but at least he wasn’t alone.

 

A hand slowly rubbed circles into his spine, even as another picked up a tall, frothy mixed drink, yet another playing with the straw before guiding it to a pair of lavender lips. Muffet watched the crowd behind them, eyes glinting in the low lighting, ever watchful of the humans that would move around, getting increasingly drunk.

 

“I do believe we should leave soon dearie.” She took another sip of her drink, licking some froth from her lip as she turned to look Slim in the eye. “Those men over there are growing restless.”

 

Slim titled his head just enough to see them, a small group of men that looked drunk, their faces red as they jostled each other and laughed raucously, though every few minutes one of them would throw a nasty glance in their direction. Slim watched them for a few minutes, then turned back to Muffet with a lopsided grin.

 

“We c’n take ‘em.”

 

Muffet stared hard, then huffed, turning back to her drink. This silly boy of her’s was only going to get them in more trouble.

 

It was lucky she loved him.


End file.
